


Sky

by Evealle



Series: 64 Prompts [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Concern, F/M, Gen, Post The Great Game, The Personal Blog of Dr John H Watson, The Science of Deduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-10
Updated: 2012-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-30 21:59:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/336602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evealle/pseuds/Evealle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah worries when John doesn't turn up one evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Written pre series two.
> 
> Based off of Sherlock's website, John's blog, and Molly's journal but before they were changed prior to series two. Sarah and Molly had posted some panicked comments, but they were deleted. 
> 
> Could be seen as a sequel to "2 AM"

Sarah tapped her foot against the floor as she stared out the window at the early morning. Her mobile phone was clutched in her hand, the volume turned all the way up. She’d been up all night, waiting to hear from John. Nothing. She’d called him more than a dozen times. She’d been all over the internet, trying to find him online. She’d even called Sherlock (without answer). There was no news of him. He’d simply disappeared. She was worried of course, Terrified. She knew from experience what could happen when you got tangled in the affairs of Sherlock Holmes. The last time they had been kidnapped hadn’t been pleasant in any way.

As her mind went back once more to the large crossbow and the spear aimed straight at her, the sand draining and the time ticking down, her foot tapping grew more frantic. Where was he? What was this pool Sherlock had been talking about on his blog?

John was due to show up at eight o’clock. When he didn’t, she grew slightly concerned and had phoned him, figuring he had just been stuck in traffic or delayed by Sherlock. There had been no answer. Two more hours and she began trying to think if there was a reason for him to stand her up. They hadn’t quarreled. The conversation when they last spoke was relaxed and playful. There was no reason for him to be angry at her that she could think of. And surely he’d have been able to send her a quick text if Sherlock had swept him off into one of his cases. Her phone had been silent though (excepting a text from one of her brothers, recounting a date he’d been on). 

The sky was growing pale now. Sarah had already resolved that she would call the police by seven if she’d had no news then. If John had any other roommate than Sherlock, perhaps she wouldn’t have been so worried. 

It had been partially because of Sherlock’s blog that she was so worried. She had eventually looked at it, had even sat there and figured out the third, unsolved cipher posted. She had already guessed what it said as she was writing the final words out. _SHERLOCK I HAVE FOUND YOU._ That had caused the fear to spring to her heart. Anxiety pushed aside by pure panic. That had been shortly after midnight. Hours ago. Anything could have happened.

She abruptly turned away from the window, hurrying over to her laptop again. She had John’s blog open already and she refreshed the page. No new replies to her comments. She quickly switched over to Molly’s webpage and reread the message there. _“I haven't. And my boyfriend's disappeared as well. I’m going to the police.”_

What did it all mean? Were they somehow connected? They had to be. It all had to do with Sherlock and that message. She thought about what she knew of Molly, from her blog and what John had said. She thought she could picture the kind of guy Molly would date. The inconsequential sort, a bloke who didn’t really stand out and would never really amount to much, but who could be counted on to be sweet and understanding. Slow and steady. About the opposite of Sherlock, really. Sarah just couldn’t picture how he would have gotten mixed up in it all.

It was when she’d first read Molly’s reply that she began phoning Sherlock. Six rings, straight to voicemail. As soon as she’d hung up, burying her face in her hands in despair and letting her imagination sprint away because she suspected (this was before she’d seen his site) that Sherlock was involved somehow (which was never good), her own phone started to ring. She’d jumped, snatching it up and answering before looking at the Caller ID.

“Hello?” She’d said, her voice hopeful and eager.

“Is this Sarah?” A woman’s voice asked on the other end.

“Yes,” she replied, her breath catching in her throat. Not John, not Sherlock, not Molly’s pathetic boyfriend. A woman. Was it someone from the police, a hospital? Calling to tell her about an accident? Was it the kidnapper?

“Oh, hi. This is Molly. We talked online?”

“Yes,” Sarah repeated. “I’m John’s girlfriend. Have you heard anything from him or Sherlock?”

“No, I was just about to ask you,” Molly told her. “My boyfriend, Jim, has gone missing as well.” Her voice shook as she spoke. “Truthfully, I’ve never been so scared before in my life. I have no idea what could have happened to him. I was going to call the police, but then I thought it might be too soon. It’s all just so horrible. He could be anywhere. He could be dead!”

The conversation had lasted for some time, Sarah becoming more edgy and worried the whole time Molly spoke, coming up with ways the three could have been killed, her knowledge of bodies and the detail she put into her theories not helping Sarah at all. She had finally convinced Molly to hang up so their phones could be free in case someone tried to call with news and informed her that she was calling the police in the morning if they hadn’t heard anything.

Sarah reread all of the posts again with a sigh. Then pushed her chair away from the table and stalked back to the window. She stared outside for a few minutes before she picked up her phone and called John. She stayed on the line until she heard his prerecorded voice say, _“Hey, this is Dr. John Watson. Please leave me a message and – "_ then hung up. She chewed her lip for a moment then redialed Sherlock.

One ring…Two…Three…Four…

“Hello?” answered a tired voice.

Sarah was so surprised that she let out a short gasp of laughter. “Sherlock?” She asked breathlessly, never so pleased to hear him.

“Yeah?”

“Oh my God, what has been going on?” She cried. “Where has everyone been? What’s happened? Where are you?”

There was a pause. “All at once?”

“Sherlock, tell me what happened!” She demanded “Where’s John?”

Another strained silence. “He’s asleep here. He’s _fine_ ,” he said, before she had the chance to ask. 

“Where’s ‘here’? Where are you?”

“At the flat, of course, 221B.”

“I’m coming over,” Sarah announced. 

“He’s asleep,” Sherlock repeated. “It’s barely five in the morning.” The sky was starting to grow pink.

“I’m coming over,” she told him firmly as she grabbed her coat and keys and ran out the door. “And for God’s sake, stay there. You have to tell me what happened.” She hung up and started taking the steps two at a time. There were tears springing to her eyes. Hours of silence, assuming the worst, finally some news. She had no idea what had happened, but she knew that John was okay. The relief engulfed her as she rushed outside, running down the street to flag down a solitary cab.

Arriving at 221B, she didn’t wait to knock at the door but flung it open, leaping up the stairs. Sherlock was standing by the window, dressed in a torn and bloodstained suit. He turned when she entered the room and she could see how tired he looked, dark shadows suspended under his eyes. There was something dark in his eyes that she had trouble identifying.

“What have you done with John?” Sarah asked. He stared at her almost as if he didn’t recognize her. Somehow, he looked very vulnerable. Outside, the sun was beginning to rise, and several beams of light slipped through the cracks of the boarded up windows. Impulsively, Sarah crossed the room and pulled him into a hug, her arms tight around him. There was a moment when, surprised, he tried to pull away from her. Then, he stopped straining and let her hug him.

She pulled away and sat down, her voice completely business. “Now, tell me what you’ve done with my boyfriend, you bastard.”


End file.
